Patience
by AngelisIgniRelucent
Summary: But then the cookie dough was ready, and it looked so good, and you'd been sitting there for seven whole minutes already. Much more distracting than that, though, was the blob of golden dough just sitting on the tip of his cute little nose.KLAINE/BAKING


**I know Klaine/Baking is pretty standard, but, it's only standard because it's AWESOME :D**

You know that Kurt Hummel is a very strong person – the strongest person you know, in fact – but you also know that he is no match for your puppy dog eyes and your adorably protruding bottom lip. And the reason for your bordering-on-ridiculous facial expression? Well, cookie dough, of course.

See, Kurt had been in the kitchen not ten minutes when you came bounding in, demanding love, attention and being generally distracting. Until you discovered that he was making cookies – _then_ you sat quietly in the corner, just watching him. It wasn't so bad, really – watching him was your favourite pastime – and seeing him measure out ingredients, mix them – it was enrapturing. So, naturally, you were staring like an idiot, but he was too caught up in the cooking to notice.

But then the cookie dough was ready, and it looked _so good_, and you'd been sitting there for _seven whole minutes _already. Much more distracting than that, though, was the blob of golden dough just sitting on the tip of his cute little nose. It must have gotten flung there during his vigorous mixing process, and it was _mocking _you, you could sense it. It was feeling so smug and full of itself – and no man can bear to be beaten by _food. _So you got up, and you headed over to him, determinedly.

He raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you – surprised that you would take his 'no cookies unless you sit quietly' threat so lightly. You don't say anything, though, you just boldly move your lips in the general direction of his face. You regret closing your eyes, though, because the next thing you know, your nose is smarting from the bop you received from his wooden spoon.

"I _told _you – no kisses until I'm finished," he sing-songed, whisking the bowl off to the other side of the kitchen where the trays were laid out.  
>"But -"<br>"_No, _Blaine! You need to learn _patience_."  
>"I know, but -"<br>"And do you want these cookies or not?"  
>"Of course, but -"<br>"Well, you'd better stop distracting me, then!" By this point, your already low supply of patience had run out completely, so you simply grabbed him by the waist and spun him around so he was facing you. He didn't have time to react before you reached up and placed a firm kiss on his nose, sucking a little to clean off the last traces of the deliciously offending blob of dough.

You could see the urge to reprimand you and the urge to drop everything and just _kiss _you warring in his eyes. Luckily for you, the latter won out, and soon enough his hands were tangled in your hair and you could hardly breathe, so ferocious was his attack on your mouth. You wanted to grin in satisfaction, but your lips were kind of busy.

Not nearly enough time had passed until he pulled back, somewhat abruptly, and you whined, about to complain, until you saw the expression on his face. Until you saw his _face_. Because, somehow, he was covered in little smudges and lumps of dough and his hair was sticking up in a tufty halo around his face, with clumps of golden stickiness scattered throughout it. You stared to smile, but held it back, unsure as to whether he would actually _cry_ about his hair or not. But then a clear peal of laughter burst from his lips. Evidently, you looked just as bad.

Whilst intermittently giggling and kissing, you realised that this was, in fact, a much more productive use of time than anything else you'd ever experienced – you got to kiss your beautiful boyfriend, laugh, and eat cookie dough _all at the same time_! And cookie dough is _so _much more appealing when licked of the face of an adorably blushing boy with a ridiculously perfect mouth. You sucked the sweetness off his cheekbones, and kissed a trail down his throat, where a particularly large lump of dough had amassed. You lapped at his neck, the mewling noises he was emitting only fuelling your desire. When it was all clean, you kept sucking, nipping lightly with your teeth, just hard enough to bruise.

"Hey, honey," he said, breathless, "none of that – I don't want to be wearing scarves all week –"but then he stopped talking, because you muttered an 'I love you' around a kiss into the smooth skin of his jugular region, and how could he say no to that?

"But … the cookies … we need to … bake them …" but he really couldn't concentrate when you were kissing, nipping, licking, sucking, biting down his collar bones, but luckily, or rather, _un_luckily for him, the mention of the cookies cut through the haze of desire fogging your brain.

"I have a _much _better use for the cookie dough …" you say, trailing off suggestively and wiggling your eyebrows in a devilish fashion.

"But, Blaine! I spent so long preparing it, and -" and that's when you deployed your famous pout. Just as you thought – Kurt was _no _match for it at all.

So let's just suffice to say that you had a _very _fun evening, and now the two of you blush uncontrollably at the mere mention of cookies.

**And I sincerely apologise for my neck fetish, I really do. I can't help it!  
>Thoughts?<br>xx**


End file.
